The wine tonight is
   an ironic little red
called Il Bastardo.
It complements
   the raw meat of my heart
So well.

That same heart
you once held
beating in your hands
one night.

Do you remember?

I said
what are you doing to me
You said
what does it feel like
I said
it feels like you are holding my heart
You said
i am.

On a night that is
What neither of us
Would have expected

cook chicken
want for a splatter screen
listen to a forgotten thunderstorm
watch the headlights of cars in the dimness of sunset

And remember you.